Locus Ceruleus
by StarCrossdSparrow
Summary: Bad techno, ecstasy, and a blizzard. Logan Veronica. Rated M for smut.


Title: Locus Ceruleus or, The Blue Spot  
Author: StarCrossdSparrow  
Pairing/Characters: Veronica/Logan, Keith guest stars  
Rating: Hard R... maybe almost NC-17 by a hair for a wee bit o' smut and recreational drug use  
Chapter: 1/1  
Word Count: 8,938  
Disclaimer: RT is the master of all things _Veronica Mars. _I'll put everyone back when I'm done so please don't sue.  
Spoilers: Through 3x10 "Show Me the Monkey"  
Summary: Ecstasy, bad techno, and a blizzard.  
Author's Note: Thanks to my darling beta, erin2326. I'm really desiring the criticism part of concrit for this guy because he's been so mean to me. Please, tell me my sins!

XxX

**January 13  
****12:47 a.m.  
****Emerald Bay Road, Lake Tahoe**

She felt like pouting. Pouting for all her worth. Pouting like a spoiled child who never got a pony. Pouting like a girl who kept getting tangled up with an ex-boyfriend who just never went the fuck away.

But she didn't. She just glared out the passenger side window, concentrating on the thickening swirl of snow through the tinted glass of the powerful Rover. And if she had her arms folded, and happened to worry her lower lip, it was just because she was cold and chapped. Despite the heat blasting and the Chapstick she'd applied at least fifty-eight times that evening.

"Could you not be like that for thirty seconds. I sort of can't see where I'm going, and I could use the extra eyes." Logan's tone wasn't defeated yet. It still carried that hard, warning edge.

Like she didn't know what sort of pushover he was. She bit back a retort and fixed her gaze on the window in front of her.

"Look," he began, his voice beginning to soften a little around the edges. Veronica had heard this technique from him before. Playing the sensitive, caring guy had landed them in their current state. Bearable fucking pain. She didn't even spare him a glance.

"You can't stay angry at me forever," he finished.

Veronica finally turned toward him, using every Jedi mind trick she'd ever seen in the movies, every dagger-filled stare, every malicious glint. Nothing worked, so she turned her tongue on him. "Want to bet? Oh, wait, yeah; you probably do. You like that."

She watched as he rolled his eyes and she wanted to punch him. Hard. Right across that proud chin. She even clenched her fist.

"Can we pretend for one second that your little 'I'm a Hardcore Bitch' act is derailed? Because I saved your goddamn ass back there. If I hadn't been there..." he trailed off, probably going for ominous, but only hitting slightly wistful.

Veronica snickered. "If you hadn't been there, I would have gotten what I came up here to get."

Logan's glance darted in her direction. She could practically feel the disbelief coming from him. "That guy had you trapped in your car, Veronica!" Logan reminded her, his tone exasperated. "And he was about to feed you to Lake Tahoe!"

Veronica rubbed her left wrist, fingering the place where the nylon zip tie had bit into her flesh. She cringed a little at the feel of her own dried blood. So much had gone so wrong, so quickly.

XxX

**January 12  
****7:12 p.m.  
****Montblanc Resort and Spa, Lake Tahoe**

Keith had been tracking the activity of one DJ Eroscion, née Justin Davas, for weeks. Davas was a low rent DJ from Pittsburgh, suddenly known all over for his party anthem "Steppin' Up," a brain-mangling mishmash of whiny sounding pulses. At least, that's what Veronica saw him as. According to her dad, he and his crew were heavy into the types of Ecstasy that had nothing to do with the Greek god of Love.

One of Neptune's _haut monde_, Euandros Nestopolous, had hired Mars Investigations to find the man who'd supposedly sold his grandson drugs. When Keith found out that Euandros' grandson had died from a lethal combination of E and a protease inhibitor used to treat HIV patients, Keith had dropped the case. He'd said no good could come of the bereaved grandfather finding the dealer.

So, like a fully functional team, Veronica snatched the case file once Keith had gone to follow up on an errant fiancée who'd gone missing down Mexico way. The contents of the manila folder told Veronica all she needed to know. Her father was one hell of a PI, and he'd tracked all the major X sales back to Eroscion and his entourage. Big money was wired to a Lake Tahoe dog sledding tour company (Mitzi's Prints of all the stupid names), and the DJ was scheduled to play a gig at the Montblanc Lounge that very weekend. Bingo. All the case needed was one final bit of hard evidence. Cake.

It wasn't that she was feeling reckless or anything, she was just at loose ends since Mac and Bronson had started 'hanging out,' and Wallace had found his own excuses, er, reasons to be elsewhere.

And, honestly, something bothered her about letting the bastard go. Sure, Nestopolous wanted to kill him. Well, to Veronica, that was one less drug dealer and techno artist in the world. Electronica gave her the creeps anyway. Not to mention the affect of mind-altering substances.

She left a message for Wallace to tell him where'd she'd be. Just in case. She then drove north seven hours to the posh ski resort after her Intro Anthro class ended on Friday morning, with just herself and the Virginia Woolf she had to read for Modern Lit. She wasn't even sure what sort of operation she was planning, but if it involved staking out a loser, she wanted to have Orlando to keep her company.

Eroscion's show was scheduled for nine p.m., so Veronica had two hours before the show to find the entourage and figure out a plan. She was sure they'd party all night, but she'd need an in before then.

Sometimes it paid simply to be a girl. As soon as Veronica rolled up to the valet at the Montblanc Resort and Spa and flashed her best Trampy McTrampsalot smile, he offered her a free pass into the VIP section of the Lounge for that very evening. He cited a pitiable lack of young women at the club of late and added his own brand of leer.

"Thanks, doll," Veronica said with a sorority giggle as she plucked the ticket from his hand. Snow was already beginning to fall and her bare legs were starting to chill, so she moved to collect her only bag.

When she turned to snatch up her oversize purse, she felt eyes on her. Whirling, Veronica caught sight of one Logan Echolls staring at her in utter disbelief through the frosty glass window. Scratch that. One Logan Echolls, one Dick Casablancas, and two of Veronica's long-lost McTrampsalot sisters were staring in her general direction.

Veronica blinked and recovered her smile for the benefit of the valet. Turning away from her audience, she tucked her keys into the valet's vest pocket with a grin and strutted into lobby through the automatic sliding doors.

She should have been very proud of herself that she managed to sashay past Logan and Company with a hip wiggle that would have made Lilly proud. Not to mention that fact that she was dressed to kill in her shortest denim skirt, nearly sheer sweater, and a cropped puffy vest not exactly suited for snow bunny-ing. Even if she had deliberately smutted herself up to gain access to Eroscion's inner circle, she should appreciate the fact that the outfit was quite possibly doing double duty to make Logan jealous.

Of course, pride was not what she felt. Instead she felt a stab of betrayal at seeing some eight- foot-tall brunette practically dripping from Logan's arm.

Veronica leaned on the reception desk, deliberately squaring her shoulders against the prickly feeling of eyes on her. Pasting another bright grin across her lips, she batted her eyes at a guy who looked to be about her age.

When he turned to acknowledge here, she saw that he was a sullen looking boy with a mop of hair that screamed 'I pretend to cut myself on the weekends when mummy and daddy are ignoring me for the yacht club.' "Do you have a reservation?" he asked with preamble.

She toned her smile down to simple polite, sensing that girlish simpering would only anger the disaffected youth further. So she went for cute airhead, hoping that any hormones the kid hadn't yet destroyed with Ritalin would work in her favor. "Yeah. My friends have a block of rooms and I kind of, like, lost my key?"

She expected a fight or further clarification. Instead, Tickle Me Emo just nodded and lowered his bored gaze to the counter. "Do you need a replacement key?"

Veronica nodded, eyes wide with what she hoped conveyed innocent thankfulness. "Oh yeah, I'm a total-"

"What number?" the kid cut in.

"Uh, I don't-" Veronica started, trying to think of a quick cover.

He cut across her once more. "Were you at the end with the elevators or did your room have a window over the lake?"

"Oh, it was on the lake," she answered with a grin. Obviously, the resort wasn't big on privacy.

The kid fixed her with a level gaze and slid the key card in her direction. "There's going to be an eight dollar fee for the lost key. You want it on the final bill?"

"Yeah. Can you put my valet on there, too?"

"Parking is free. But you can add a tip."

Veronica quirked her lips into a grin. "Give the guy out front twenty. And take twenty for yourself, too." With that, she flounced toward the elevators. Spending other people's money was refreshing. Even if it was drug money.

Once she made it to the bank of elevators, she glanced surreptitiously back toward the lobby. Logan was no longer there. She heaved a sigh of what she hoped was relief and checked the folder containing the key card. 1615.

She got off the elevator on the sixteenth floor and located the room. She could hardly believe how easy things were going. At this rate, she could snap a few pictures, send them to Mr. Nestopolous, and be home for a hot shower by two a.m. She'd expected this to cut into her Saturday a lot more.

Locating the room, she rapped lightly. When no one answer, she knocked a little harder and threw out a timid, "Housekeeping?"

Still there was no answer, so she slid the key card into the lock. Once she heard the low pneumatic hiss of the lock and the small light blinked green, she opened the door.

The suite was lovely, and the view of Lake Tahoe was breathtaking. However, the room looked vacant. Closing the door behind her, she went in search of luggage. Perhaps the Eroscion crew were just an especially fastidious group.

Upon entering the bedroom, Veronica found an evening gown and a cocktail dress, still wrapped in their dry cleaning bags, hanging in the closet. On the dresser was an elaborate fruit basket decorated with an American flag motif.

Veronica walked back out into the living area of the suite. There were a few papers on a desk. The top sheet was an itinerary. And the first order of business? _Introduction Dinner for AMVETS National Ladies Auxiliary._

Mop Top thought she was at the resort to commiserate with other women over veterans? Veronica snorted. Obviously, she needed to revise her giggle to be a little less Girl Scouts and a little more _Girls Gone Wild_. So much for that hot shower.

Veronica let herself out of the room. There were two floors above her and she knew the top floor probably had the very best rooms. She headed back to the elevator and rode up to the eighteenth floor.

When the doors slid open, she was once again face-to-face with Logan Echolls. This time, he was alone.

He blinked his surprise.

"Logan," Veronica said as curtly as she could, stepping out of the elevator.

"Veronica." He said her name like she was some memory he needed to refresh. "I wasn't sure it was even you downstairs. What are you doing here?"

She opened her mouth to answer, but he stopped her with a shake of his head. "A case, right? Probable danger, definitely none of my business?"

Veronica closed her mouth. "You look like you're having fun." She threw an accusing glance his way. "Did you even come back to school this semester?"

Logan arched an eyebrow in her direction. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I did. I don't have classes on Friday. As much as it probably pleased you to think, I didn't go to college just for you."

"Oh? It's the sluts and underground gambling, then?" Veronica snorted and turned around. She would not give him the last word.

As she contemplated the first door in the hallway, she heard the elevator ding. It sounded like finality.

XxX

**January 13  
****12:49 a.m.  
****Emerald Bay Road, Lake Tahoe**

"Do you even think, Veronica?" Logan continued. He was no longer concentrating on the white road in front of him; he was giving his full attention to her. "Do you ever stop to consider, just once, that you can't do it all on your own? I mean, we're seven fucking hours from home! And who in the Hell even knew you were here?"

"Wallace knew!" Veronica threw back, her eyes meeting his. She was slightly taken aback by how black they looked.

"Oh, great. At least he'd know where to start the search for your body!"

Veronica huffed and hugged her arms tighter around herself. She knew she was behaving like a petulant child. She was just dangling-at-the-end-of-her rope pissed off. It was more than screwing up with Eroscion's flunkies. It was more than Logan's mere presence. She just felt absolutely like she'd lost control of her life, and she hadn't felt that way since just after Lilly's murder. She hated the feeling.

"Veronica?" Logan asked, his voice losing some of his edge once again.

Wonderful. Veronica recognized this as what she called The Second Sally. With Logan, it was a cycle of angry ranting, and when that didn't work, he reverted to Sensitive Guy. She normally gave into that Look because, otherwise, they just went round and round and never got anywhere except fucking angrily against the nearest hard surface until they were both spent, and then they termed it make up sex. And there was no chance of that happening.

When Veronica glanced up to make her reply, she saw the tree across the road. She registered its sheer size and the texture of the bark before she shouted her warning, "Logan! Stop!"

She heard the impact rather than felt it. She sensed the sudden shift of centripetal force as they slid sideways, felt the grind of metal and the crunch of glass in her very bones, and smelled the powerful scent of earth. Then everything faded away.

XxX

**January 12  
****9:54 p.m.  
****Montblanc Lounge, Montblanc Resort and Spa**

"So, like, you _know _Eroscion? Wow!" Veronica simpered, writhing to the techno beat that vibrated the very air particles in the room. She felt her skin thrum with the pulsating throb of music. She wanted to scrub herself free of it, run from the stale scent of cigarettes and sweat, from the harsh pink and blue lights. It was no wonder people needed to be rolling when they listened to electronica. It was hard enough not to just shake free of all of one's connective tissue with such an intense quaking all around.

The lanky guy with a light stick in his tongue grinned and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. "You want to come up with us after his spin? We have the Presedential Suite."

Veronica grinned up at him. "I think I might be getting tired." _And, no, it's not because I spent the better part of an hour trying to get through the door to named suite, trying every possible lock pick method I'd ever gleaned from dad._

The guy, Veronica was pretty sure he'd said his name was Ferry, plucked a bead from a candy bracelet and broke it open. He held a small yellow tablet with a crown etched into the top. He tilted his chin up, and Veronica took that as her sign to follow suit.

She allowed him to place the tab under her tongue, and as soon as she could, she spit it out into her palm. Evidence collected. Now she just needed to establish an actual link between the pills and DJ Eroscion. She was glad she'd brought her sliver of a digital camera. The outfit didn't really allow for a telephoto lens.

She stayed close to Ferry and his assorted friends. Some of the girls were wearing less material than normally constituted a bikini for Veronica, and several of them wore fuzzy boots in an array of colors. It made Veronica wonder how many beavers on LSD were cold that winter.

She laughed at her own thought and Ferry grinned down at her. She hoped she looked someone on a good trip. She just kept smiling and swaying in the cocoon of pulsating sound.

XxX

**January 13  
****1:13 a.m.  
****Emerald Bay Road, Lake Tahoe**

Veronica pried her eyes open. She immediately brought her hand to her face. She felt... broken, but nothing felt out of place. She turned, feeling every muscle in her body groan in protest.

A large branch had come though the driver's side window. The jagged broken edge came all the way to the Veronica's window. The Range Rover was skewered on the tree.

Logan was slumped back against his seat. His mouth was hanging open and his eyes were closed. Veronica could see that his chest was rising and falling. She could also she blood all over his shirt. She suddenly felt all the cold at once.

She worked her fingers, rubbing them together. Painfully, she reached down to unlatch her seatbelt. Her limbs would only respond with excruciating slowness. Finally, she worked free of the belt and reached for Logan across the console.

Her hands felt like blocks of ice, but Logan's neck felt chilled beyond that. If it wasn't for the steady pulse she found at his throat, she'd have thought him dead. The thought wrenched a strangled sob from her, and she climbed onto her knees to get closer to him.

"Logan?" she asked. Her voice was weak. It sounded like it had come from somewhere else. She located the source of the blood. The side of his face was scratched open in several places, presumably from the glass and the drag of the branch. None of the wounds were bleeding any longer, so Veronica let them go. However, she could see that his lips were tinged with blue and that scared her more than anything. Did that mean he'd lost to much blood? Or was he freezing to death? She rubbed her hands over the cool planes of his faces, trying desperately to rid him of the horrible pallor. His breath kept coming in icy little clouds, and that reassured her somewhat.

She reached through the branches to feel around on he floor for her bag. She came up with it and scrabbled around in the mess of papers and books for her Sidekick. She came up empty.

"_Who's calling you, babe?" Erocion's flunkie leaned across her to withdraw her phone from her bag. He pitched the phone out the window just as she caught the melody of Right Said Fred's "I'm Too Sexy." Logan. His own choice, of course. She hadn't ever thought to change it._

The memory elicited another strangled cry. She rubbed her hands over Logan's face and hands once more; she was at a loss. They hadn't taught them about frostbite during summer camp first aid classes. Who would need to know such a thing? They lived in Southern California, after all.

She flipped open the center console, but only found a collection of CDs and a few crumpled parking tickets. She had the same luck reaching into the overhead sunglasses case. No phone. She reached for his pockets.

He stirred at her touch then, and she tumbled back against the seat, narrowly missing the heavy branch.

"Wha' happened?" Logan mumbled, rubbing his forehead. His voice had the same distant quality hers had. Veronica sincerely hoped that losing the ability to speak wasn't a side effect of exposure.

"Wrecked," she explained simply. Her voice was still croaky, but it sounded more familiar. "Your phone. We need to call help."

Logan winced when he tried to reach for his pocket. Veronica watched as he shut his eyes on the pain and withdrew the small black rectangle. He slid it open and shut his eyes once more. "No signal," he said gruffly.

"Here, give it to me. I'll go and see if I can find a stronger signal."

He fixed her with a pained look. "You won't. We're on the side of a mountain."

"I might-"

"Veronica!" Logan rasped. He cleared his throat before continuing, "Look out the window."

The snow was coming down fast. Indeed, the tree they were smashed up against had at least half a foot on it.

"You'll get lost," he finished. He tested his legs with a groan.

"Are you all right? What's wrong? What hurts?" Veronica asked, suddenly panicked again.

"I don't think we'll have to amputate." Logan smiled at her from under his mask of pain.

Veronica searched his eyes for a moment, before managing a weak laugh. "I can't stand you."

"I know," Logan held her gaze for a beat longer before looking back at the blizzard. "But you're right. We can't stay here. We'll freeze."

Veronica thought a moment. "I saw a house with a light on a few minutes before you called me a bitch."

He didn't flinch at her reminder, and it wounded Veronica slightly. He just fixed her with an honest gaze and asked, "Can we make it?"

Veronica didn't bother to look out at the snow. It was going to be difficult, given their already bone-deep chill. Still, it was the only option. "Yes." Se hoped it wasn't a lie.

Logan nodded, wincing at the slight motion.

Veronica turned toward the door and pushed. It opened easier than she'd expected. She turned to see what aid she could give Logan, but he was already halfway across the console, so she just backed up.

The snow was halfway up her bare calves and sinking into her boots by the second. The swirling snow had slowed to a light flurry, but being so cold and unsure of the distance they had to travel, Veronica hardly appreciated Nature's single concession.

Logan slung his arm around Veronica's shoulders and pulled her tight against him. "Why did you wear a skirt?" he growled, hunching his shoulders against the cold.

Her teeth were already chattering, so conversation ceased as they made their way along the dark road toward whatever Veronica might have seen.

XxX

**January 12  
****11:29 p.m.  
****Suite 1801, Montblanc Resort and Spa**

"Lookie what I brought," Ferry exclaimed, dragging Veronica into the crowded room.

Veronica blinked in the darkness of the suite. The crowd from the Lounge seem to have migrated north. Most of the girls were in various states of undress and dancing with one another in the sunken in living room. The guys were hanging nearby, many moving restlessly to the low throb of music coming from a set of speakers set up in one corner.

Sprawled across a plush sofa sat Eroscion himself. He stood and inspected Veronica, looking her up and down. "You're new at this." He was skinny and stood only about three inches taller than she. One of his front teeth was chipped, giving his grin a lopsided, menacing look.

Veronica pretended to blush and ducked her head under his scrutiny.

He touched her chin and she felt an urge to bite his fingers. He looked into her eyes and then up at Ferry. "You didn't share, bro?"

Veronica blinked her surprise. He was able to tell she hadn't taken the pill?

"Yeah, man. It was only a crown, like, hours ago."

The DJ nodded as if he understood. He laid his hand on Veronica's back and guided her toward the living area and the writhing girls. If they wore any less, she thought, it would probably be considered an orgy.

"You roll a lot?"

Veronica shook her head. "No."

"Must've been a weak dose, then. My apologies." He reached forward and picked up a tin. He opened it to her. Inside was a rainbow of pills. Each one bore the same emblem: three diamonds arranged so that one point touched in the middle. These pills were larger and more solid than the one Ferry had.

"You have a name, then?"

"Danielle," came her quick response. She wasn't even sure where she'd pulled it from.

"Well, for you, Danielle, I say take the red pill." He laughed and a few people around him joined in. Veronica smiled and simply chose a dusky pink pill, palmed it, and pretended to put it under her tongue.

She knew right away that she'd done something wrong.

Eroscion grasped her upper arm. "Who're you with?" he barked.

Veronica started. His tone was suddenly loud and deep. She was surprised something like that could come from someone as small as him. The strength with which he held her arm was also shocking. She tried to shake him off. "Nobody. I'm just-"

"Yo, Sam! We got ourselves a snitch." Eroscion called over her explanation.

Veronica turned her head. The man she took to be Sam stood up from a low sofa. It was the valet from earlier, the one with the invites. She cursed herself inwardly for tipping him. The DJ released her and shoved her into Sam's arms.

"I'll take good care of this one, man. _Good _care," Sam said, snaking his sweat-slick palms around Veronica's waist and tugging her tightly against him.

Ferry stepped forward, and for a moment, Veronica was sure she was going to get a reprieve. But she was sorely disappointed.

"Hey, dude, I found her. By all rights I should get the first go!"

"Eros gave 'er to me," the valet said with a shrug. Ferry backed off.

Veronica struggled against Sam and he only leered down at her. "Oh, good girl. I like 'em a little wound up." He dragged her toward the door and into a service elevator.

XxX

**January 13  
****1:49 a.m.  
****Emerald Bay Road, Lake Tahoe**

Veronica's face was so bitten by the cold, she wasn't sure whether her nose was running or not, but she kept sniffling anyway. Her eyes leaked constant tears, but taking her hands out of the slightly warmer refuge of her pockets just wasn't going to happen. Her legs, well, they were so cold, they'd stopped hurting at least a mile ago. She would have been grateful if it didn't scare her so much.

She knew Logan wasn't any better. In fact, for all the extra layers of clothes he had on, he was shaking uncontrollably. He kept stumbling, even though the snow wasn't thick and not yet icy. Despite her worry, she didn't waste her energy talking. She could make out the vague outline of an A-frame house in the distance. She thought a light burned, but she was starting to fear it was only her imagination.

Pressing herself closer to his side, she hoped to impart what little heat and strength she had. Together, they pressed on.

XxX

**January 12  
****11:39 p.m.  
****Underground Parking Garage, Montblanc Resort and Spa**

Sam shoved Veronica headfirst into the passenger side of her Saturn.

"You know, I never understood what it is with you rich people. You hand over the keys to your car to a guy making minimum wage? Who's stopping me from just taking Daddy's little toy out for the evening?" Sam snorted at his own observation. He turned her over, grasped both of her wrists in his hand and knelt across her lap to keep her from kicking him. He reached into his back pocket and withdrew a strip of plastic.

He was still grinning as he wrapped the plastic around her wrists and worked one end through the fastener. He was deft with only one hand. There was no telling how many people he'd done this to.

When he finished, he shoved her backwards and fastened her bound wrists to the steering wheel. Then, still kneeling across her lap, he bent and fastened each ankle to the bar beneath the seat. Veronica was effectively immobilized; any movement made the thin strip of plastic cut into her arms and she couldn't move her legs at all.

"I'm not going to say anything," Veronica moaned, writhing against her bonds. She cried out at the way the sharp plastic bit into her bare wrists. "Please, just let me go!" She hated the pleading in her voice, but she was desperate and afraid; she knew no one could save her.

"Nothing doing, babe." Sam winked as he slammed the door closed. The driver's side door opened behind her head and she felt the steering wheel jerk as her captor grasped it.

He slid her key into the ignition and turned the engine over. When he moved the shifter out of park, he made no bones about caressing her breast over her thin sweater. Veronica recoiled as much as her position would allow and he laughed.

"We coulda made this fun, you know. But, I'm a little eager to get back to the party. Lot of pussy to be had, you know?"

Veronica felt her tears before she realized she was going to cry. She tried pleading again as he piloted the car out of the garage. Each slight turn of the wheel caused her to cry out in pain. Soon, she felt blood trickling down her arms, soaking the sleeves of her top. "Please, please let me go. I have money. I can give you anything. Just, please..." she cried out as he made a sharp turn.

He laughed softly. "Sorry, babe. I can't. You know too much about the boss man and if he goes down, he'll bring us all with him."

Veronica choked on a strangled sob and the a left turn of the wheel pulled her taut. She couldn't see anything except the blue-black sky above and the light flurry of snow falling, but she felt the car stop and the sharp tug on her wrists as Sam spun the wheel to drive in reverse.

When he finally stopped once more, Veronica was stretched nearly taut. She could tell that he'd parked on an incline, but not where. Her fingers were rapidly losing the tingle that reminded her that blood was still making it that far, and soon, she could only concentrate of contorting her body to ease the strain on her wrists. She avoided looking at her captor at all costs and was rather surprised at how disinterested he actually seemed in her.

He climbed out and lifted the hood of the car, entirely blocking any view she had through the windshield. Hopelessness washed over her, and she slumped against the center console.

She saw lights momentarily wash over her passenger side window and she lifted her head. Of course, she couldn't see anything beyond the grey interior of the car door, but still, she tried.

The door hung open and the breeze carried with it the sound of a car door opening. Whoever had shown up was getting out. Was it to help her? Or to help her captor?

Then she heard his voice so clearly, he might have been right beside her.

"What in the hell do you think you're doing?" Logan's voice was hard-edged and coming closer.

"In here, Logan!" Veronica shouted. She was grateful Sam hadn't thought to gag her. Of course, he probably hadn't counted on having company within hearing distance. "Inside!"

She heard his footsteps on the crunchy snow. Sam shouted something Veronica couldn't make out. She heard the grunts and the distinctive sound of fists connecting with tissues. She prayed every last bit of the old Logan she'd cursed for fighting came back to him. She didn't want him to be another casualty of her rash stupidity. The thought made her cry out.

Suddenly, she felt the car shift as if someone knelt on the driver's side seat. "Jesus, Veronica. What in the Hell happened?"

Logan.

Veronica was crying too hard to choke out an answer.

"Christ," came his muttered curse as he touched his cold fingers to hers. "Can you hang on a second. I've got something to cut through this in the truck."

Without waiting for an answer, he got out of the car. Veronica tried to regain her senses, but the overwhelming physical pain and the fear of one or both of them dying kept the tears flowing.

True to his word, Logan was back within a moment. The SUV shifted once more and she felt the brush of his fingers as he clipped the plastic encircling her wrists.

Freed, Veronica sat up and assessed the damage. Her fingers and hands had a terrible purple cast to them and her skin was rubbed raw where the offending plastic dug into her. She tried to wiggle them experimentally and only got a terrible pins-and-needles feeling for her trouble. But the pain was better than no feeling at all.

She finally looked at Logan who was silently watching her, still poised with a pair of wire nips in his hand. He had a cut above his eye and his lip was bleeding, but all of his concern seemed to be for her.

"My legs, too," she murmured.

Logan knelt across the seat and cut her bonds.

Stretching against the seat, glorying momentarily in the feeling of freedom, she turned to him. "How'd you find me?"

"I was on my way to the garage when I saw your car go through the exit. I knew it was yours because of the KRFF sticker. You weren't anywhere in sight, and you didn't answer your phone." He looked away."I was worried, so I followed as quickly as I could. He didn't... you're not..." he trailed off before meeting her eyes once more.

Veronica scrubbed at her tear-stained face despite the tingles in her hands. "No, he didn't. Where is he?"

Logan tipped his head toward the windshield. "Knocked out."

Veronica nodded and made to open the door handle.

Logan's hand fell on her shoulder. She winced; the ache of being stretched across the console made her arms tender. She regretted her reaction as he pulled his hand away. "Where are you going?"

She glanced back at him. "I need to close my hood and get out of here. Thanks for coming, Logan. I... just... thanks. But, I have to-"

"Get to a hospital, Veronica. That's what you have to do. And I'll be damned if you're going anywhere alone." Logan's tone was soft, but it brooked no argument.

"But my car-"

"Isn't going to roll into the lake on its own tonight. I'll drive you back to get it tomorrow. Besides, that guy was doing something under the hood. I don't think you should drive it until you can have someone look at it."

Veronica knew his requests were reasonable. She also knew he'd just saved her from a rape or worse. Probably worse. Instead of responding with gratitude, all she wanted was to get the final thing to bust Eroscion. Veronica didn't have the time to berate herself as she pushed the door open. "I need to go back to the hotel, Logan. There are people back there-"

"The same people that tried to kill you tonight? Yeah, let's go back and have a party." His gaze was so cold, Veronica recoiled. "We'll call the police on the way to the hospital," he finished, swiping her keys from the ignition. Without giving her a second thought, he stepped out of the car and slammed the driver's side door.

Veronica followed suit. Finally, she saw where the Eroscion's stooge had brought her. He'd backed her Saturn down to the waterline of Lake Tahoe on a icy boat launch. From the damage under the hood, she could see he'd also pulled a few of her spark plugs out. Perhaps to make it look like car trouble when they brought the car up out of the water?

And, as Logan had said, her captor was knocked out. He was flat on his back, blood running a river from his nose. Once he came to, he was looking at a world of pain; the thought almost made Veronica smile. She looked on as Logan stooped to drag the valet's body toward a nearby picnic table bolted to a cement patio overlooking the water. Reaching into Sam's shirt pocket, Logan withdrew a plastic strip and fastened the valet's unconscious body to the underside of the bench.

Veronica would have grinned if she didn't feel so defeated and miserable. Resolutely, she climbed into the passenger side of the Rover, pulled her belt on, and folded her arms over her chest.

She remained wordless as Logan piloted the SUV away from the resort and toward the highway toward South Lake Tahoe.

XxX

**January 13  
****2:12 a.m.  
****Emerald Bay Road, Lake Tahoe**

There were a lot of things that Veronica didn't know, so she clung to the facts. She was crying, of that she was sure. She was also terrified. And, most importantly, she knew they'd found the house.

The only problem was that no light was burning. Indeed, the hulking A frame was empty. Empty and locked up tight.

She'd reluctantly left Logan on the front porch to search for an entrance. She pushed through the snow, now drifting halfway up her calves. She barely noticed, though; panic and sheer cold and numbed her physical senses.

It was pure luck that she spotted the covered basement window. It was a little patch of dull in the falling sparkle of the snow. She moved closer. A plastic bubble covered the window well, presumably so that no animals could fall in and get trapped.

Veronica kicked the bubble. Pain shot from the toe of her boot up along her fibula and seemed to wrack her entire body. Desperation drove her to ignore it, and she stomped down on the plastic. This time, she felt the dome give a little beneath her strength. She tried again. And again. The fifth stomp was the charm and the bubble cracked.

She bent to pry the plastic apart. Once the dull cover was opened, Veronica could see the reason for it. The submerged basement window was cracked and a particle board sheet had was placed over it on the inside. Not stopping to worry about the barrier, she scooted down into the hole. She didn't bother much to avoid the snow, as she was already covered in the white stuff, nearly wet to the skin not already exposed. She leaned back in the waist deep hole and used the frozen lip of the ground for leverage as she kicked the window in.

The board gave easily after the glass shattered. With her mind now solely occupied on retrieving Logan from the porch, Veronica slithered through the small window. It was such a tight fit, she had to push her hips through diagonally, earning herself scratches of all sizes on her frozen legs, waist, and arms. But she hardly noticed.

The drop to the floor was a short one. Veronica blinked to adjust her eyes to the murky light. As soon as she could make out the shape of the staircase rising to her left, she made for it.

She burst through the door at the top of the rickety stairs into a neat kitchen. She reoriented herself, suddenly acutely aware of how cold she really was in the sudden warmth of the house. She ran through the doorway and found herself in the great room. Moving quickly, she found the door and opened it to Logan.

He was leaning against the door frame, weaving unsteadily on his feet. His eyes were blinking slowly, and he almost looked drunk. His lips were such a frightening shade of blue, Veronica had to bite back a small scream as she helped him across the thresh hold.

Whatever had gotten her that far finally fell apart. With no destination, no beacon calling her, she was adrift and unsure. Choking on terrible sobs, she helped Logan to the sofa. He was as wet through as she was. She knew that couldn't be good.

Once she'd pushed him back against the chenille cushions, she began to tug at his sodden clothing, fretting at how turgid his muscles were and the awful way he kept shaking.

"Please, Logan," was her mantra as she worked. She wasn't sure what she was asking. Please, Logan, help me do this? Please, Logan, don't shut your eyes? Please, Logan, please don't die? She didn't care. She just kept repeating it until he was naked and wrapped in every afghan she could locate without leaving him alone.

As she moved to the large stone fireplace, already laid with the necessary starter logs and kindling, she began a sort of monologue. She began with any random thing that caught her eye, like an autographed football perched on the TV hutch and how much she wanted the Patriots to win the Super Bowl, or musings over the decor: "Moose? Really?" The trivial, and sadly one-sided banter soon gave way to an apology. She covered the sins of the evening and sins from the past. She asked forgiveness for every thing she thought of, from the time she'd accidentally-on-purpose scratched his Neil Diamond CD to accusing him of Lilly's murder.

She continued on in that vein for as long as it took to set a weak flame to the dry wood. Lighting the fire was difficult, but at least the activity warmed her slightly. It also helped her to contain her tears. Soon, she was warm enough to notice how cold her own wet clothes were making her. She turned back to look at Logan for what must have been the fortieth time in twenty minutes. He just stared at her, glassy eyed and terribly pale.

"I'm going to find more blankets. Please, Logan, don't fall asleep." That time, she was sure of what she begging for.

He didn't answer as she moved again toward the kitchen. There was another room through an opposite doorway. It turned out to be a dining room. In the bottom of an oak armoire, the owners had stored their dining table linens. She knew she would find more blankets and probably clothing upstairs, but she was reluctant to leave Logan for any unnecessary stretch of time. Veronica just reached for a wine colored tablecloth and, shedding her own damp clothes, wrapped herself in it.

Once she was back in the great room, she found Logan in the same position on the couch. He was still shaking, and his teeth clattered together. The sight made Veronica wince. Why did that have to happen to him? Why couldn't it be her? She touched his cheek, his forehead. He was still ice cold, though the room had to be nearing the temperature of a spring day in Neptune.

Her pathetic fire was catching on, but it was still a long time until it roared to life. Knowing the only thing she had to warm him was herself, she unbundled him from his cocoon of blankets and laid on top of him.

He continued to shiver, but after she rearranged the blankets around them, the violent rattling finally ceased. Thankful, she rested her head on his chest and just listened for the steady beating of his heart.

She tried to keep from dozing, even picking up on her rambling apology from where she'd left off. She felt guilty for wanting sleep when Logan was so obviously sick, but she felt so warm, so safe after the desperate circumstances that had brought them to the A frame house in the mountains, that she drifted off shortly after crawling onto the couch with him.

It could have been moments later, or days, when Veronica woke up to Logan's touch. His fingers were repeating a steady pattern across her cheek, so feather light, it almost tickled. She blinked her eyes. They must have shifted in sleep, because her back was against the cushions and he was facing her. His lips were no longer blue, and he was smiling. Sun washed through floor to ceiling windows she'd barely noticed in her panic the night before.

"You saved me," he said once she'd refocused her eyes on him.

"You saved me first," came her answer. As soon as she spoke, tears sprang to her eyes and she reached her hands up to cup his cheeks. "Oh, God, Logan! I was so worried. I..." she couldn't speak over the lump in her throat and as she tried to swallow it, Logan laid one hand over hers, and laced their fingers together.

"I know. But we're safe."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Veronica had managed to hold the tears in check, but her voice was still choked with emotion.

Logan nodded. "I got that last night. You must have said it at least six hundred times. "

"You could hear me?"

He smiled. "Yeah. I just sort of clung to your voice. It was like I was in a long tunnel and the sides kept tying to push in and close you out. But, every time things started to get black, I'd just listen a little harder." Logan caught her gaze and held it. "You should know that nothing happened while I was with Dick."

Veronica pulled a face. "I should hope not. I mean, Dick so isn't your type."

Logan shrugged. "Well, he _is_ a blond." He laid his finger on the tip of Veronica's wrinkled nose. "But, he's not quite petite enough, and he more reeks of stale beer and bimbo than marshmallows and promises." She smiled at that, and he tilted his head down before meeting her eyes again. "I'm serious, Veronica. Nothing happened."

Veronica ducked her head, more affected by his earnest confession than she wanted to admit. She noticed that she was still naked beneath the blankets, but Logan had her tablecloth about his waist.

Logan must have caught her gaze, because he tugged her chin back up so she could meet her gaze. "I got up to call your dad as soon as I woke up, and I didn't want to scare the woodland creatures." His eyes twinkled with laughter as he pulled her closer against the hard length of his body and the evidence of just how alive she kept him. "And, I had to have some way to protect your virtue."

Veronica gathered the blanket against her chest, reality pulling her back from the snug circle of his arms and the warmth he was now radiating. "Is he coming? What about the roads?"

Logan toyed with an errant strand of her hair as he answered. "He said he probably wouldn't be here before tonight since he was still in Mexico, but he called the local sheriff's department and gave them our location. I don't know how long they'll be. They'd better have a sled team, though, because from the looks of it, there isn't a road open anywhere."

She grinned up at him and settled against the cushions. "So, we're stuck here for the duration? What ever shall we do?"

Logan tapped a finger to his lips. "Well, for starters, we need to talk about your taste in football. The Patriots, really?"

She wrinkled her brow in confusion before the memory of her ramblings dawned on her. She smirked. "Tom Brady is a babe."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm surprised at you, picking a team for the quarterback's body over their talent."

Veronica glanced down before tapping him on the chest. "Well, I keep picking you, don't I?"

Logan chuckled and pulled her close. "Well, we have all day for me to prove my talents to you," he murmured into her hair as he let his hands wander over her peaks and valleys.

A loud knock sounded at the door, and Veronica flushed, batting at his hands. "Logan, I think the police..." she cut herself off with a groan as he brushed the knot of nerves at the apex of her thighs.

Logan grinned down at her, and this time, his laugh came a little deeper, a little huskier. "Or maybe I only have a few minutes."

Veronica tried to hold back, but her reaction to his ardor was instant. Weeks of deprivation, not to mention their shared warmth all night, had her grinding wantonly against his dexterous digits. "But..." she protested again, damning her voice for coming out so quavery.

Logan kissed away her doubts as he dipped one finger inside of her tight folds. Veronica responded with a dissolute moan and succumbed to his touch. He added a second finger, and then, to her surprise, a third. Veronica arched her back to accommodate him and to meet his strokes. When he brushed his thumb over her clit, it was all she could to do to keep from screaming from the mix of torment and pleasure. Talent, indeed.

Another knock came from the front door. "Miss Mars? Mister Echolls? Are you in there?" a booming male voice called from the other side. It must be freezing outside, and-

Veronica concern crumbled as Logan laved at the spot below her jaw where her pulse fluttered. When he crooked his fingers inside of her, her ability for coherent thought shattered.

She came down to the sound of a familiar voice calling out commands. "Go around to the back. Look in the windows for them. Break them if you have to. They're in there, I know it!"

Veronica sat up abruptly, nearly smacking her forehead off of Logan's chin. "Logan! That was my dad!" She pushed Logan away from her and wrapped the linen tablecloth around her, making for the piles of now-dry clothes she'd scattered in her haste to warm him up the night before. "Mine are in the dining room."

Logan was laughing at her panic as he tugged on the rumpled clothing. "Relax, Veronica. I don't think anyone will begrudge our nudity," he called after her. "After all, it was all in the name of saving my life, right?"

Veronica called back something unkind about never surrendering to his masculine wiles again. Logan laughed harder and went to the door to let the former sheriff in.

XxX

**January 13  
****3:07 p.m.  
****El Dorado County Sheriff's Department, South Lake Tahoe**

Finally dressed in clothes befitting a frigid climate, Veronica sat sipping a mug of hot chocolate perked up with something minty. Her father was sitting to her left on the couch, one arm protectively across her shoulders. Logan was on her right, fingers doing everything to keep from touching her.

The trio answered Sheriff Roscoe Conner's questions as best as they could. She couldn't help but bask in his praise of her bravery; it happened so rarely in Neptune. She noticed Logan grinning a lot too. Her father wore a basic frown, but Veronica knew it was all for show.

After they'd ridden the dog sled (yes, after hitching a ride on a helicopter from San Diego, Keith had ridden to the rescue behind four adorable Alaskan Malamutes, and no, he wasn't happy about it) to town and visited the emergency room seeking treatment for sundry injuries, they gathered at the cozy downtown sheriff's department that was outfitted in a style more befitting a ski lodge than a cold, federally funded station.

They were informed that Eroscion and his crew had been arrested and were being held in a "less comfortable" part of the department. They were charged with a list of offenses, the least of which were not drug possession with intent to sell, kidnapping, and assault and battery. Keith and Veronica delicately kept Euandros Nestopolous' name out of the information, but both knew that if they were subpoenaed, they would have to give up all they knew.

As soon as Sheriff Conner managed to wrangle a reluctant Keith into a discussion of _Big Murder, Small Town_, Logan pulled the mug from Veronica's fingers and clasped her hands in his.

"So, did my performance as both hero and victim last night take your breath away?" he teased, following the lines on her palms with his long fingers.

"It was more your performance this morning as an, um," Veronica paused to consider before landing on something that could fly under her dad's radar. Grinning mischievously, she finished, "As a football commentator that took my breath away."

"I knew I could sway you to my side. If I buy you a Peyton Manning jersey, will you wear it..." Logan stopped and threw a guilty glance over her shoulder, presumably to judge whether or not her father was listening. His grin told her that Keith was indeed preoccupied. Logan pressed on. "Wear it with nothing else while I regale you with all of my various knowledge of the subject... of football?"

Veronica quirked an eyebrow. "Are you asking me to dress like a guy when we have sex? Because that's less fun for me, I think."

Logan laughed and dropped her hands, raising his own in surrender. "You caught me."

She leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss against his lips. "I hope so. And this time, I don't intend to let you go."

XxX

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